Time Immortal
by Tbookworm
Summary: Was this the end? Or just the end of the beginning? What does the future hold for Merlin and Albion?
1. Prologue

Time Immortal

Disclaimer: This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction. Obviously I have no rights to _MERLIN, _or King Arthur or anything relating to the legend of Camelot. Nor do I make any money from them.

_MERLIN _is the registered property of BBC; and the characters of the Arthurian legend are copy written by Sir Thomas Malory's, _Le Mort D'Arthur_ and T.H. White's, _The Once and Future King,_ as well as several other authors too numerous to list. I have fantasized about King Arthur, Merlin, the knights, and Camelot since I first read the book _The Once and Future King,_ by T. H. White, as a teenager. Over time I have read many different stories and watched several movies and documentaries about the Arthurian legend.

This story is my attempt to reconcile the ending of BBC's _MERLIN, _and my understanding of the Arthurian legend; with a little fantasy thrown in for fun. My story is not based on cannon of any form; whether show, movie, documentary or novel. I wrote my story in first person using Merlin's point of view. I hope you enjoy the story. Reviews would be appreciated.

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Time Immortal: the Beginning of the End

As a cold drizzle fell, I realized that the gloom of the day matched my feelings. I wondered if the sun would ever shine again. As I pushed the barge across the lake toward the Isle of Avalon, I fell to my knees in grief.

One thought swirled through my mind, _WHY! Why was my power not enough to save the most important person in my life? Why was I too late? Why did I not stop Mordred years ago when the great dragon warned me I would regret allowing the druid boy to live? Why did I not listen to Kilgharrah's other warnings? Why could I not have died as well?_

As I sobbed out my grief, rain mixing with tears on my face, I remembered our time together. In those early days there were so many times I questioned whether or not I even wanted him to survive. At first he appeared to be a judgmental bully who never listened to anyone. I wondered how such an arrogant prat could ever manage to make anything better. And I questioned how I was supposed to help him, when I had to hide my greatest strength.

We had both matured so much since that time. I was much stronger and more confident, not to mention I had learned discretion and subtlety when practicing my skills. Arthur was not nearly as arrogant and close-minded, though he would forever be a prat. In truth, Arthur had finally become the great king Kilgharrah had said he would. We had changed each other for the better, and I was lucky to have had such a friend.

The way Arthur acted when I revealed that I used magic, caused me to fear I had lost his friendship and trust completely. When I explained that not only did I use magic, I was magic, the revulsion I saw in his eyes ensured the certainty of it. I knew that Arthur resented his own helplessness and that if he had the strength, he would have ridden as far away from me as possible. Had it not been for Gaius' reassurances, I am sure that Arthur would have ordered me not to touch him and to leave him alone to die. In fact, I think that if he had the strength, Arthur would have killed me himself.

I wished that we had time for me to explain everything that had happened. I wanted Arthur to know exactly how much magic had helped him, had protected him. Unfortunately, time was too short for me to explain in detail, not that I could form the words around the pain Arthur's hatred cause me. Realizing my discomfort, Gaius quickly and briefly explained what little he was able to in the time we had together. Too quickly, our time was up and Arthur and I had to leave him behind.

I recalled how Arthur and I traveled in complete silence for the better part of a day. The silence fraying my nerves until I was as jumpy and irritable as a wet cat. Eventually, Arthur begin to question me, demanding to know why with all of the power I possess, would I choose to remain his servant. When Arthur finally processed my answer, and what little information Gaius shared, when he eventually understood and forgave me for all the lies, my relief was indescribable. It was in that timeless instant that I realized the true extent and strength of our friendship and that I would have to bear the pain and loss of Arthur's absence for an eternity.

Lost in my memories as I was, I failed to notice the golden glow that enveloped the barge. However, I felt my magic build and swirl and knew with absolute certainty, something powerful was happening. Looking up, I saw the glowing barge, and watched in wonder as three silvery orbs floated over the lake and settled their growing into the shape of three beautiful ladies.

Using my magic to enhance my vision; I saw Igraine, Arthur's mother, Freya, the love of my life, and a woman I did not know. In my mind, I heard the woman call to me in the words of the Old Religion. She calmed me by saying, _I am Vivianne, High Priestess of the Old Religion. Worry not Merlin. You did not fail. There is yet a faint spark of life within your king. We will ensure that he reaches the Isle of Avalon safely. There he will await the time of his return. _

Several Heart beats later, I felt Freya enter my thoughts. She encouraged me whispering, _despair not my love; you too will have time in Avalon. Be patient, your time will come_. An arm rose from the water and Freya took Excalibur, passing it to the outstretched hand, which immediately sank beneath the surface. With that the ladies left my mind and the barge and all aboard vanished.

Staring at the lake, I felt hope bloom in my heart. There is still life within my prat of a king. I knew that faint though the spark of life was, the magic of Avalon would strengthen it, and heal my king. Not only would the king prat live, but my love hinted that I too would visit Avalon. Perhaps I would reunite with the prat sooner than I expected.

Now if the clot-pole would only open his mind, and take advantage of the time in Avalon to learn, and understand a thing or two about magic. In my mind, I heard a whisper so faint I almost missed it, _I am not the only one with something to learn cabbage head_. I knew that the ladies had helped Arthur send the message, but I did not care. My joy overflowed, and suddenly the sun burst out from behind the clouds. In that moment, I knew that life would move forward, and everything would be fine.

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Author's Note: I would like to thank ITgwendolendragon for encouraging me to write my own story and for providing words of wisdom when I thought I was making a mistake trying to write. Rivermoon1970, DoctorMerlinReid, and StayMagical, thank you for taking the time to beta my story. You all provided equal amounts encouragement and criticism, and I am sure that was not easy.


	2. Life Moves Forward (Chapter 2)

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy the continuation of my story. I apologize for not continuing the story sooner. I have family concerns that require my attention. Thank you for reading and reviewing.

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Time Immortal: Life Moves Forward

Once the barge carrying Arthur to Avalon vanished, a type of numbness filled both my body and soul. My awareness of time's passage was hazy at best. Both days and nights were spent gazing vacantly over the lake, barely moving. My mind existed in a gray void; my focus lost. Random thoughts would surface faintly only to quickly slip away. I have no memory of eating and sleeping, nor of any physical action during that time. Perhaps my magic sheltered me from the elements and provided sustenance. It must have, though I was unaware of it. Despite the hope Vivienne's words had instilled in my heart and the joy felt hearing Arthur's whispered parting, my soul remained oppressed. And weeks after Arthur's departure, I still had not left the shores of the Lake.

Arthur's absence would be keenly felt by all for many years to come. And I reproached myself for Albion's loss. My grief at not preventing the injury that took him from us overwhelmed me. Staring out over the blue-green water of the lake, I began to experience visions of what might have been which deeply cut my soul and burned themselves into my thoughts. _Busy days full of exhausting chores. Tremulous days spent at Arthur's side. Court counsels where my opinion was openly sought. Late nights spent laughing with Arthur and the Knights around a campfire after a failed hunt. Scrumptious dinners spent privately with Arthur and Gwen discussing the needs of state. Tedious afternoons spent learning from Gaius helping to prepare and deliver tonics and potions. Late night suppers of his simple __but __filling stew and bread, after long days catering to royal prats._ Each vision that filled my mind also filled my eyes with tears and my heart with grief.

My experiences with the Crystal of Niemated and the Crystal Caves nearly shattered my mind, but these visions were worse. For the most part the images were pleasant, though the knowledge that they were lost possibilities completely crushed my heart. The images of times that could have been spent in Arthur's presence took away my breath. Rivers of tears flowed from my eyes, my breath caught in hitching gasps and my head pounded worse than when I was used as the practice dummy on the field. My grief and guilt was all consuming.

Finally, though the pain and guilt still knifed through my mind and body, I gathered the remaining pieces of my pulverized heart and soul and left the shores of the Lake. Despite losing Arthur, life continued to move forward; birds continued to sing, bees to buzz, and flowers to bloom, and my solitary journey began. My continued existence without Arthur's presence confused me; lost and alone, I wondered what to do and where to turn. With no destination in mind, I begin walking. It was all I could do to keep placing one foot in front of the other, for every step I took pulled me further from Arthur, further from the other half of my soul.

The country was barely stable, and without Arthur's strength and leadership, Gwen and the remaining knights faced the difficult challenge of maintaining Arthur's vision. They battled dissention from minor lords, and protected helpless villages from the marauding raiders left from Morgana's defeated army. They also mediated disagreements between council members. In addition they worked to maintain the peace established between the various realms. Together they also battled bigotry and fear of magic as they worked to incorporate sorcery into daily life and make it legal. Due to Gwen's determination and kind heart, they of course persevered, ensuring temporarily at least the safety of both Camelot and Albion.

Physically feeling no different from the naive awkward young man who first stepped awestruck into Camelot years ago, at first the years passed normally. However all that existed mentally and emotionally was a shadow of that former self. Guilt would not allow me to face Gwen and the others and I consciously avoided Camelot as I roamed around Albion.

Walking from town to town and village to village I travelled, only occasionally hitching a ride with traveling merchants. The extensive knowledge of herbs and healing that Gaius consistently pounded into my hard head became very useful. To occupy my hands and distract my mind I gathered herbs as I travelled. In the villages I traded my excess herbs for others I needed, or occasionally for food or shelter. Thanks to Gaius' patient teaching I was also able to offer my services as a healer. In one village herbs gathered while walking made a burn ointment for the baker's assistant. In another, some herbs were compensation for borrowed pots used to make an elixir for the blacksmith's cough. In still another the broken leg of the Miller's son required setting and a poultice to prevent infection. So it went from village to village and town to town. If a little magic strengthened a potion or sped the healing process, no one was ever any the wiser. There were people everywhere who needed help and I pitched in wherever possible. Payment was never expected or requested though offers of food or shelter were gratefully accepted. At times the offers were extremely meager, though they were always willingly made.

The war had caused wide-spread devastation and desolation. Everywhere I turned there were charred woodlands with the bodies of animals that were unable to escape the smoke and flames, trampled blood soaked fields containing ruined crops, and in many places vacant village ruins with collapsing buildings and tainted wells. The few villages that remained were over crowded with refugees from the destroyed areas. The hopelessness in the eyes of starving children, the grimace of pain on the faces stalwart warriors, and the exhausted slump in the shoulders of overworked worn-out wives and mothers; each one burned my soul reminding me of my failure. Their gratitude for the minute aid I provided only increased my self-condemnation. Restless, I never stayed long in any one place, preferring instead to heal the worst and then move on.

The first place I stopped for more than a week or two was the Druid encampment in Cenred's Kingdom. Nature always had a calming effect on me and the woods there were among the most picturesque in all of Albion. It had the added benefit of being far enough away from Camelot that only the Druids would recognize me, and they respected my privacy enough not to mention the past.

The Druid village was a primitive campsite located at the bend of a wide, shallow river. Women cooked bent low over open fires in front of tents, and there were no permeant structures to be seen from the ground. Hidden high in the tree tops there were platforms and hammocks for sleeping and storage. And in the very back of the largest cave was a living area set up for the youngest children and their caregivers (typically the village elders), the ill and the injured, and the healers that remained with them constantly. Over time it became obvious that this portion of the population remained hidden at all times. They could not move as quickly as the older children, or the young healthy druid priests, who could vanish into thin air between breaths with no notice. The area was hidden not by magic as I expected, but by a clever false wall that could be pulled and locked into position. It was explained that it was designed to be undetectable even by magic. Humbled, I realized a basic concept that I had repeatedly witnessed and experienced, for some reason the implications of which never connected in my thoughts, magic knows magic.

Iseldir met me and ushered me into a small cave the moment my foot touched the encampment's borders. Though small, the cave was very comfortably arranged. In one corner was a thick soft pallet of fresh pine needles covered with thick warm quilts and several soft pillows filled with goose down. In front of the fire pit were two curved willow rockers, each covered with thick cushions. Near the bed but close enough to the opening for the sunlight to hit it was a small sturdy desk covered with letters and other documents. Iseldir explained that Gwen and the Knights were looking for me to take a place on the counsel, which demanded a Court Sorcerer to deal with out of control magic, before they would make magic legal. They also wanted to fulfil Arthur's last pledge to make peace with the Druids.

As a High Priest, Iseldir could see that I was in no shape to deal with the stresses of being court Sorcerer, or the responsibility of ruling the Druids and forming peace contracts, though it was my right and responsibility as their leader and guide, Emrys. He offered to go to Camelot as my representative and take the reins of leadership I was too weary to maintain. Gratefully I agreed, writing a letter of introduction to the court. Iseldir promised to explain my situation to Gwen and my remaining friends at court.

Leaving an old Celtic Druid Priest Blathmac in charge of the camp, Iseldir quickly set out for Camelot, having made it clear to everyone that I was not to be troubled with official responsibilities. Before he left Iseldir gave me use of his cave and all its furnishings, calling it my right as their leader and guide. Honestly only a token protest was made on my part, because here I could remain hidden living in comfort and resting quietly among the Druids.

Truth be known, the quest to save Albion had exhausted me and the loss of Arthur's presence frayed my nerves to breaking. No longer able to control my emotions, it was as likely for me to snarl and curse at a simple good morning as to respond kindly. Blathmac often found me sobbing over the simplest things. Obviously I had slipped deeply into melancholia but had lost the will to care. I remained in the small cave Iseldir had given me, and ignored everyone as much as possible. The young girl assigned to bring my meals was terrified of me. Poor child; unable to control myself, I ranted at her for the better part of a day if anyone dared to disturb me. After putting up with my attitude for most of a week Blathmac finally became fed up. He knew all about melancholia, his family being prone to it as some were. Despite my status and reputation as Emrys, he treated me like anyone else. At first he tried to talk to me to make me understand the harm I was causing myself. I did comprehend that my actions or lack thereof were harming me; I just could not summon the strength to care. A lonely eternity stretched before me and I craved oblivion.

When reason did not work, Blathmac resorted to issuing commands and physically forcing me to comply with his demands. He was aware that the longer my isolation continued, the worse the melancholia would become. I was grateful that someone was able to look past the great Emrys, and see Merlin the young servant lost and alone without his leader – no, his friend. Blathmac and Gaius shared many of the same personality traits. Conflictingly I found this both reassuring and painful at the same time.

One of the only things I expressed any interest in was the magic used by the Druids. Despite being busy as the leader of the encampment Blathmac took pity on me and we spent a great deal of time discussing various types of magic and how they should be used. He even went so far as to show me several spells. The most useful spells he showed me how to work were the concealment spell used to protect the tree top storage, and the ward spells used to protect the ground camp and surrounding areas. The wards reminded me of my time in Camelot. Unknown to Arthur, Gwen, the knights or any of the court but Gaius, I had placed wards around the castle. Compared to those used by the Druids my wards were clumsy, weak and practically useless; only the blindest weakest sorcerer would have failed to see and avoid them. I expressed these thoughts to Blathmac and he kindly assured me that my problem was not the spell used to shield Camelot but my ability to maintain my focus. I looked at him in astonishment thinking, _If I have to spend all of my time focusing to maintain one spell how can I ever be of any use?_ Blathmac chuckled as he read my thoughts.

His response was immediate: "That, my friend, is a question of focus. Focus is the difference between being a competent sorcerer and a great one. The strength of your magic alone allows you to be competent; focus is what will make you great."

My guilt was obvious: I had not spent enough time studying magic. I scarcely knew basic spells and barely understood how magic worked. How had I ever expected to defeat Morgana and Mordred when I did not understand the most basic part of myself? Understanding my need to comprehend and control this most powerful element of myself, Blathmac in essence became my magic tutor, teaching me focus and basic spells.

Unfortunately, survival meant no one could spend entire days focusing only on learning. Therefore, since I was accustomed to working with Gaius, Blathmac placed me working with the healers. This was difficult as it reminded me greatly of my time in Camelot. My feelings did not seem to matter, for Blathmac insisted that I rise every day and help in some manner. While Blathmac often reminded me of Gaius, there were times I could have sworn he was related to my mother, he was that strict. If I refused to rise in the mornings, he quickly came and pulled me from my bed. If I attempted to shirk my duty to help the healers, he would refuse to teach me anything about magic. If I neglected my appearance or tried to skip meals, Blathmac treated me as one would treat a petulant child. I found that there was no escaping his observation. The man had eyes everywhere, and always knew exactly what I was plotting. Grudgingly I finally surrendered and completed my assignments timely and without complaint. I eventually found that focusing on relieving others' pain and learning as much as I could about magical healing distracted me from my own guilty heart.

I had always struggled with healing magic; the only times I was successful were under the guidance of Gaius or Kilgharrah. Kilgharrah's guidance consisted of leaving me to struggle on my own until the situation was grave and then swooping down and doing it himself. Luckily for me Gaius' guidance was slightly more informative. Gaius taught me to use my magic to become one with the person I was healing, then feel what was wrong and use my magic to resolve the problem. As a result I often found that small amounts of my magic remained attached to the person I was trying to help. I found the process painful and draining. Healing in this manner felt like I had sustained the injury or illness myself. And it left a connection to the other person that faded slowly as the person healed. It also meant that I could not heal multiple injured in a short span of time. The Druids called Gaius' method of healing sympathetic healing, and considered it a weak substitute for the method they used.

The Druids tapped the energy of nature, entwined it with the life energy of the injured, and merely sped what would happen naturally by their will. While still painful for the injured or ill person, accelerated healing done like that was not nearly as painful or draining to the one guiding the magic. Eventually I found a tiny sliver of peace in helping the sick and injured. Their pain was my fault, and helping them to heal was my duty. If only I had managed to save Arthur, his light would have guided the people to avoid fighting amongst themselves, and there would be fewer injuries. During what little time I was not working in the infirmary. I threw myself into learning all I could about magic.

Druid magic came from nature; it was the source of all their power. They tapped the power of the elements, either Land, Sea, Skye, Flame or Spirit, and molded it to their will. Most were limited to a particular element, though the strongest and most powerful could manipulate two. Other than myself, I never met a Druid who could manipulate all five elements.

I found the Druids to be greatly respectful of all life. They asked the blessing of their God or Goddess for everything. If fact, the first three quarters of all their spells consisted of various prayers to their God and Goddess. They never killed except to provide meat for the tables and then only because it was needed to maintain health and strength. All trees were respected although ash trees were sacred to the God and Goddess and were treated with great reverence. They were never chopped down. Firewood was obtained from other trees. Branches that fell naturally from ash trees were collected and used for fires used in sacred ceremonies.

Spells were used for focus and also as a prayer to gain the God or Goddess' blessing, but it was the intent and will of the person wielding the magic that truly determined the outcome. I found that elemental or natural magic was very easy for me to wield, and I was very comfortable wielding all five elements. Druid magic was powerful and similar to my magic, but it was different at the same time. I often had the feeling that the magic of nature was just an object or tool, that it had no awareness that it provided nothing but energy. In a sense my own magic was also a tool but I felt an awareness from it. My magic seemed to try to guide and protect me. It reacted to my surroundings, especially people I came in contact with. At times it even resisted me, refusing to follow my instructions, seeming to shrink just out of reach. Other times it flared up and surrounded me and I fought to rein it in.

As hard as I tried to remain busy and tune out the rest of the world, news and gossip did reach me. Only about eight months after losing Arthur, and only four weeks since Iseldir presented himself to the Court, he sent word that Gwen and the Knights convinced the counsel to repeal the laws making the use of magic illegal. Additionally, I heard that at pressure from the council they made him the court sorcerer. He confirmed that Gwen and the knights tried to put off naming a court sorcerer in order to provide me a chance to return. However, once the Court repealed the laws concerning magic, members were adamant that there be someone in place to counter any misuses of power.

For my part I was glad the members of the court had pushed for another court sorcerer. Iseldir did explain to Gwen that I found it too painful to return to the place Arthur and I worked so closely together, and convinced her to stop fighting the council. It relieved Gwen that he was known to and trusted by me. That he was my recommendation sealed the matter. It was doubtful that I would ever enter Camelot again, certainly not while anyone I knew still remained there. Iseldir would do a good job; he was a powerful sorcerer who had proven true to Arthur's vision. It pleased me that he was there to protect Gwen, Camelot and Albion.

I was aware of the death of each of my friends and family; I felt them as they occurred. The first death I felt was Gaius'. Cowardly, I could not bring myself to sit by his bedside knowing that nothing I could do would change the outcome. Thankfully, Iseldir was in Camelot at court. He did everything in his power to ensure that Gaius was comfortable and had a peaceful passing. _Gaius' death cut deeply. He was the only Father I had ever truly known. He was my refuge when destiny became too much. He was one of the few people who saw me as Merlin, the idiotic, naive young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was his belief in me that had given me the strength to remain by Arthur's side. It hurt deeply to lose another person I cared so much about._

As Gaius drew his last breath, I fell to my knees in a dead faint. Finally I came to the next morning, with the awareness this was certainly not the last death that would be felt. During my time unconscious, I dreamed of Gaius. Though neither of us ever said a word, I could feel Gaius' understanding, love, and sorrow as he could feel my affection, guilt and pain. In the dream I escorted his soul over the Lake of Avalon, past the shores of the Isle and to the Gates of Avalon themselves. There waited a young girl whom Gaius seemed to recognize, as his smile brightened and his sorrow dimmed at the sight of her. At the gates I was turned away. The young girl who welcomed Gaius informed me that it was not yet my time to enter Avalon. Her exact words were, "It is not your time yet Emrys. You are not yet strong enough to enter Avalon." Her words confused me; I was the most powerful warlock the world would ever know, and I was not yet strong enough. Strong enough for what? Despite racking my brain I could come up with no answer. The girl and Gaius had already turned to enter Avalon; it was obvious the girl would be of no help.

Gaius' death combined with the strange dream I could not comprehend resulted in the return of the melancholia Blathmac and I had worked so hard to rid me of. I was once again terrorizing the very people I depended on. Understanding my grief Blathmac again allowed me nearly a week of such behavior before again stepping in and forcing me to face life.

Only a few years after Gaius' death my mother weakened, and I knew that hers would be the next death I felt. Unlike Gaius my mother had no powerful Druid High Priest to provide her comfort and ensure her peace as she passed. Knowing this I was desperate to see my mother before she passed away, so I returned to Ealdor. As I made my way to my mother's cottage I noticed that the village was eerily silent and dark. Late in the evening I finally reached her cottage unnoticed and unhindered.

I entered the cottage and saw her sprawled across the rumpled bed. The fire was out and the room freezing; there was clutter everywhere and the rushes on the floor were dirty and smelled. Even the bed and bed clothes were filthy and smelled sour. Though I wanted to blame the village for my mother's neglect, it was not their fault. Typical of my mother, she had told no one she was ailing. My mother was well-respected in the village and considered a beloved midwife and healer, having delivered every child born since she settled here many years ago and providing cough, pain, and fever reliving elixirs when needed. Had she but said a single word to anyone about her condition she would have been well tended. Late as it was I did not want to go in search of fresh rushes or chop a new supply of wood. Nor did I want to trudge all the way to the well for water to heat to begin cleaning.

Draining my strength unnecessarily, but too tired and overwhelmed to make a physical effort and with no one around to rebuke me, I set about cleaning the small cottage using magic. Quickly and silently the old ashes vanished and in their place materialized a new stack of dry seasoned wood, which was set ablaze with the simple whispered word, "Forbernen." The old dirty rushes then vanished and were replaced with fresh clean ones. New water was quickly summoned to me and heated. Carefully I lifted Mama from the bed, and, laying her on a soft pallet of rushes in front of the blazing fire, gently bathed her and dressed her in clean night cloths. That she lay unmoving, her head lolling limply, and did not rouse as I did this, told me how serious her condition really was.

Once my mother was clean and warm I turned my attention to the bed itself. The mattress needed to be burned and the coverings were worn so thin as to be practically useless; besides they were covered with vomit and other filth. Vanishing them I then stretched out with my magic and pulled to me the mattress and bed coverings from my cave in the Druid encampment. It materialized instantly. I then gently lifted Mama and put her back to bed. Never a heavy woman she was now skeletally thin, weighing no more than a large child. Her skin, normally so warm and tan, was now pale and nearly translucent, and though there was slight warmth in her body her extremities were cool to the touch. Her soft well-worn night cloths hung on her fragile body. Her body was completely limp and her breathing hard to discern; had I not seen the faint sheen of perspiration from fever, I would have thought her already dead. Throughout the night I bathed her face with cool water, and knowing she was also dehydrated dribbled small drops of cool water into her mouth.

As the night wore on I became very concerned. I checked her pulse and found it to be very faint, little more than a light flutter against my fingertips, and extremely slow and irregular. Her breathing was also barely existent it was so shallow. Holding her firmly against my chest I tried to get her to swallow medicines to help her heal. Because she was unresponsive I had to gently stroke her throat in the manner Gaius had shown me long ago. It seemed to take hours to get even a spoonful of medicine into her. I tried everything I could think of that might help; tincture of Yarrow to strengthen her heart, a distillation of Willow bark to combat the fever, even smelling salts to force her to cough and take a deep breath. No matter what I did my mother never roused. If anything her pulse and respiration became even weaker. I questioned if I was too late, if I had missed my opportunity to say good bye.

Once daylight arrived and I could get a better look at her and around the cottage, I understood what had happened, and why she remained unresponsive. Apparently my mother's condition caused quite a bit of pain. I saw empty opium and absinthe bottles strewn over the table and around the cottage. Gaius taught me to use opium only for the worst illnesses or most severe injuries, and even then sparingly. Opium, a highly addictive extract of poppies, never failed to slow the breathing and pulse; further it caused euphoria, disorientation and lethargy. Gaius also used absinthe sparingly and cautioned me never to order both at the same time. He taught me that absinthe an herbal concoction containing wormwood, commonly caused hallucinations, disorientation, and lethargy, and excessive use could even cause seizures. Viewing the number of bottles I wondered how long she had been ill and how she had managed to hide it. I also questioned where she obtained such a large supply of two such potent medicines. Perhaps there was more to my mother than I realized.

I checked Mama's pupils by holding open her eyelids and shining a candle in her eyes. Though her eyes rolled up and down or side to side constantly, as if searching for something or someone, there was no reaction to the light. Seeing the pin-point size of her pupils, and the glassy patina of her eyes, I realized that she had forgotten which medicine she took last and when and in her confusion took one or both of them too soon. Not having seen any seizures since my arrival I was hoping that she had not taken absinthe; however the faint licorice smell of her breath indicated otherwise. Her pale ashen skin combined with blue tinged lips and fingernails gave testament that she was not receiving enough air. I remained seated by her side all day and long into the next night, continuing to bathe her unresponsive body with cool water and dribble small drops of water into her mouth. Between doing that I held her hand and stroked her hair whispering words of my love, my pain, and my guilt.

With tears traveling down my cheeks, I whispered brokenly, "Oh Mama, I am so scared. Please Mama, please do not leave me, I need you. What will I do without you? I do not want you to leave me. I am not ready to lose you; I will never be ready to lose you. Why does everyone I care about die and leave me? What is the point of having powerful magic if I must let everyone I love die? Oh, Mama I want so badly to slip off with you to Avalon." Occasionally I checked her pupils to gage if the drug she had taken was wearing off.

Finally, just before dawn of the second day when I gently took her hand, she whispered barely audibly and without opening her eyes, "I knew you would come, my son. I had hoped to spare you this pain. I will love you always". She smiled faintly and then drew her last breath.

For hours I sat staring at nothing, lost in pain, too numb to act. The first emotion I registered was fury. _She had deliberately mixed both opium and absinthe and deliberately taken too much of both, hoping to pass before I arrived. I was on my way! We could have had weeks, even months together! How dare she give up on life?_ In my fury I sent bottles and dishes flying around the cottage, smashing into the walls, hearth and floor. When I finally regained my composure the small cottage looked like a tornado had come through. I should have regretted destroying the contents of Mama's home; instead I was consumed with anger and resentment. _She had no right to try and prevent me from saying goodbye. She had no right to cut off our time together. She had no right to leave me before she was forced._

My fury and resentment eventually turned to guilt, and I began to sob_.__I should have checked on her more often. I should have come home more. I should have been here all along. I should have never gone to Camelot. This was where I should have come, immediately on Arthur's loss. If I had been here, I would have seen she was ill. I could have helped her. I should have been a better son._

I gently cradled my mother in my arms; with a flash of my tear-filled eyes I returned the mattress and bed covers to the cave. Still cradling Mama with her head resting on my shoulder, we vanished. (To this day it remains a mystery what happened to Hunith of Ealdor for she vanished as quickly and mysteriously as she had appeared decades earlier.)

Moments later, we materialized beside a large oak tree in the forest. It was the place I chose to lay Balinor to rest all those years ago. Tears flowing from my eyes as they again flashed gold, I quickly formed a hollow beside Balinor's unmarked grave. Gently I placed my Mother in the hollow and reluctantly covered her with dirt.

My heart broke in my chest as I sank down between the graves, sobbing with the pain and loss of not only my Mother but my Father as well. Before this I never had the time or opportunity to truly morn my Father's passing. Laying there between the graves of my parents I felt my magic flow deep into the ground. Suddenly my mother's grave was covered with soft grass, dotted with fragrant pink jasmine and small blue forget-me-not flowers, while my Father's was covered with delicate bluebells and simple white poppies.

Quite suddenly and painfully I had an image of my parents as they might have existed in another reality. _I could see my mother sitting on a blanket resting against the trunk of the great oak. She was gently playing with my father's hair as he lay with his head in her lap. Their eyes shining with love, they were looking out into the forest and smiling at a tiny dark haired little boy playing with a tiny white dragon._ My heart clinched as I realized I had never seen a smile like that on my mother's face.

That night, tears drying on my cheeks, I dreamed of my parents, I could feel their pride and love, but oh, the pain of their loss was still so deep. In the dream, like when I dreamed of Gaius, I escorted their souls over the Lake of Avalon, past the shores of the Isle, and to the Gates of Avalon. This time it was Gaius who waited at the gates to welcome them to Avalon. I joyously approached him gave him a hug and told him how much I missed him. Then I quickly inquired of Arthur.

Gaius smiled sadly and replied, "Arthur is well Merlin, and misses you just as you miss him, but it is still not time for you to enter Avalon. Your strength is still untried." Puzzled, I tried to work out the meaning of his words. I was distracted after only a heartbeat when I heard in my head so faintly as to be almost unnoticeable: _Focus, cabbage head, focus._ Arthur always had to have the last word.

Decades later, having left the Druid encampment to again roam Albion, I felt Percival's death quickly followed by Leon's. Their deaths were so close that I realized they died in battle somewhere protecting Camelot and her Queen. At the time I was in a small village near Mercia helping stop an outbreak of the plague. I had heard rumors of fighting a day's travel away. From the rumors it seemed that the Knights of Camelot were involved.

These were men I once considered brothers; though decades had passed since I had seen them, I wanted to go to them. Guilt bloomed in my chest. _I should have been there to protect them. I could have if I had had the strength and courage to return to Camelot after Arthur's death_.

Now, unfortunately, to go to them would risk spread of the Plague. I could not honorably do that; besides, they would have been the first to order me not to put more people at risk. Knowing their loyalty to Camelot and Arthur's vision, dying in battle was how they would have chosen to leave the world. They died making a difference and protecting what they loved. There was never any dying in bed old and frail for men like them; their honor would not allow it.

Finally, nearly six decades from the time I first entered Camelot, I felt Gwen's death. She was the last of our family. For I could admit now that was what we had become. _Gwen was the best of us. She was the heart of Camelot as she had been the heart of our family. Her bright light exemplified compassion, joy, and strength of will._It grieved me that my friends and family aged and died while I remained young and healthy.

_No one I had truly known and loved remained. No one left had truly known me. No one would recognize me. No one would look at me and wonder why I remained young and healthy while they grew old and frail. No more eyes to look into and see recriminations and accusations gazing back at me. No one to question why I failed. No one to wonder silently why I had not fought harder for the life of our king. No one to look at me and question, why__,__ with all my power, I had not stopped the persecution of magic users when I first met Arthur. No one to doubt any of my actions. No one but myself._

Once the first century passed, time seemed to move strangely. Sometimes days felt like years; time inched forward more slowly than a snail climbing a tree. While other times centuries felt like decades, time soaring by faster than an eagle diving to catch a bird in flight. Through it all, only the knowledge that Arthur waited in Avalon provided the strength to continue to live. Life appeared dull and gray without the prat and our friends at my side. Truly totally alone for the first time in my long existence, melancholia again threatened to consume me.

My human family was dead; the only beings left even distantly related to me were the dragons. I was not sure if any of them remained. Kilgharrah told me that Uther killed all of them except Aithusa and himself, and he indicated that he was at death's door when we last parted. I lost touch with Aithusa long ago. The last time I saw her was at the battle of Camlann where I roared at her to leave. I knew if she still lived she had studiously avoided me all this time. Whether she avoided me because she feared me or out of respect I did not know, and it no longer mattered. I was desperately lonely. Only if I believed in destiny did I have a reason to continue living, and many times I questioned whether I believed in destiny or not. My need for companionship and understanding overwhelming, I pulled all of my power to me, and in the almost forgotten language of dragons sent out a loud call to any dragons remaining. I pushed all of my power into the call, reaching even the furthest corners of the world.

I instantly felt Aithusa respond strongly. After a few heart beats, much to my amazement I felt a faint response from Kilgharrah. Knowing Kilgharrah perhaps I should not have been so amazed that he still lived. Though the Great Dragon had indicated his death was near when Arthur was injured centuries earlier, he had a bad habit of never telling me the complete truth. Perhaps it is more accurate to say he never disclosed the simple truth. I am convinced that he spoke in riddles and mysteries in an effort to appear wiser than his reality.

I also felt faintly questioning responses from a few dragons in the far reaches of the world. I was able to determine that those dragons were much further away, because their thoughts were not clear. All that came through was the vague curiosity of who had the power to reach that far. In answer to their curiosity I broadcast my true name and title. Receiving a vague sense of acknowledgement from the far off dragons, I turned my attention closer to home. Calling to Aithusa, I politely requested that she collect me and transport me to Kilgharrah. Thankfully she agreed, and within minutes landed in front of me.

When we last met I shouted at her to leave the battle. Considering how furious I was at the time, I was startled to realize that I was no longer angry at Aithusa. Over time I realized that Morgana took advantage of Aithusa's youth and loneliness to manipulate her actions and limit her choices. I admitted as much to Aithusa, asking for her forgiveness for not keeping her close as she grew. Though in my defense if I was seen in the company of a baby dragon, neither of us would have survived. I had expected Kilgharrah to care for her and protect her, teaching her about humans, who to avoid and how to survive. I should have made it an order for both of them to remain together, instead I mistakenly assumed Kilgharrah would naturally protect and instruct his young kin, much as he did me. Luckily, Aithusa was a generous and sympathetic being, and she quickly forgave my mistakes.

Remembering how angry I was at Camlann, Aithusa humbly apologized for her part in the Great Battle. She explained that she did not understand why Morgana's way was wrong until she met Kilgharrah after the battle. Observing her and seeing true repentance, I remained convinced she was Morgana's victim, as much as Arthur and Camelot had been. Upon meeting her gaze, I was struck by the pain, confusion, and loneliness in her eyes. I realized then that we had a great deal in common. I said as much to her and then questioned if we could put our past mistakes aside and be friends. A single tear and a shy smile were her answer.

Within moments I was on her back soaring toward the Great White Mountains. I was unable to contain my curiosity even while flying on Aithusa. During the trip she and I talked mentally. Her head was still flat and smooth and there was still evidence that her wings had been broken. Though she had grown and was now large enough to carry my weight she was smaller than I expected and was still unable to vocalize responses. My thoughts were scattered like leaves in the wind; I had so many questions.

Athusia was able to sense my disorientation and laughingly thought to me, _Why do I not start at the beginning and explain? Then if you have questions you can ask._

This was agreeable to me and so she began with finding Kilgharrah. After the great battle she found Kilgharrah alone in the mountains, weak from hunger and exposure to the cold. She refused to allow him to give up on life, and so had nursed him to the best of her ability, using her magic to heal his wing. She kept Kilgharrah fed and their cave den warm and in turn, he taught her when he was able.

I expressed my amazement that Kilgharrah was still living considering that he indicated his death was near when last we parted.

Again I could feel Aithusa laughing in amusement as she replied, _Oh, Lord Merlin, do you know so little of your people? Time means very little to dragons, especially ones as old as the Great King of Dragons, Kilgharrah._

As that thought registered my confusion increased, _Wait. The Great King of Dragons? Kilgharrah? What was I missing?_

Amused by my increasing confusion Aithusa continued as if I had not interrupted, _His majesty King Kilgharrah has many titles but his official title is High King of Dragons. His majesty might kill me for telling you this before he can explain, (as is his right), but you need to know in order to understand. The life span of dragons is around twenty thousand years. And King Kilgharrah is ancient even for one of our kind. Dragons live so long that time becomes irrelevant to them. If His Majesty told you that his time was imminent when last you saw each other it might just mean that he saw the manner of his death, not the exact date. He could have had several centuries from that point__. However, Lord Merlin, you must understand that the reverse is also true. One of King Kilgharrah's age might see the death coming but without the exact date it could happen the next day. It is possible that he could yet die without warning. And no, Lord Merlin, time is not yet irrelevant for me, I have not yet lived even a thousand years. That does not occur until somewhere between the fifth and tenth thousand year. It will even be a thousand years or so before I can speak._

Suddenly I found myself looking at Aithusa with new eyes. _She is still just a baby even after two centuries. __My guilt grew exponentially.__ How could I have treated her so badly? Why did I not order Kilgharrah to protect her? How could he have neglected her? How could Morgana have used such innocence for such evil?_

Here I felt Aithusa forcefully insert her thoughts in my mind. _Stop it! Stop being so hard on yourself! Yes! I am still considered a baby by my kind. Yes! Morgana tricked me into making something evil for her. And yes, there were things that you and King Kilgharrah could have and maybe should have done differently. But recriminations and blame will not change the past. We must learn and move forward._ Her attitude humbled me; she was able to put aside the pain and resentment of the past and look to the future. Connected as we were I could feel the innocence and hope her soul contained despite the experiences of her past.

As we continued to fly I looked forward to seeing Kilgharrah again. I was sorry I had missed so much time with the Great Dragon, but admitted to myself it had been too early to encounter Aithusa. By the time we reached Kilgharrah's cave den we had worked out our problems and were laughing and joking together. I promised not to abandon her again and in return, though it was not necessary, she pledged her loyalty, obedience, and dedication to me. She even promised to share with me the knowledge that Kilgharrah passed on to her.

Entering the darkness of Kilgharrah's cave den, I could not at first see the Great Dragon. The only thing visible was a large, unusually shaped bolder and the carcass of a deer. Looking more closely at the bolder, I realized that it was the shape of a sleeping dragon. I sensed nothing; though I had the thought that the bolder resembled Kilgharrah, upon realizing that it was him, my first thought was that I was too late, that the Great Dragon was dead or unconscious.

That thought was quickly dispelled when Aithusa entered, chiding, _Great King, you did not eat your lunch. You must eat to keep up your strength._

I watched in amazement as Kilgharrah slowly opened his eyes, winked at me, and quietly replied, "I thought the young warlock might like to share a meal with me."

Amused, I watched as Aithusa primly responded_, __I will happily hunt for Lord Merlin's supper, now please eat your lunch so you will have the strength to provide Lord Merlin companionship while I hunt._ After watching to ensure that Kilgharrah finished the deer, Aithusa took her leave of us, saying, _The two of you need to talk and I must hunt. Lord Merlin - I will eat while I am out and I will bring you back a couple of rabbits or a deer later. My king I will bring you another deer as well. If you need me just call; I will not go far tonight._

As Aithusa left, Kilgharrah looked at me and said, "We have much to discuss, and you have much to learn. I can see in your eyes that Aithusa began without me. Perhaps that is for the best; I fear that I will not have time to teach you everything you need to know. Perhaps she will be of assistance."

* * *

Author's postscript: I apologize for the length of time between posts. I originally planned to post chapters more quickly; however, it has become apparent that due to familial obligations I will need longer than I thought between posts. Please continue to bear with me. I will not abandon the story, however there will most likely be several months between posts. Thank you for your understanding. I would also like to thank Cordelia Rose for agreeing to beta read the rest of the story when my first beta reader became too busy.

Sincerely,

Tbookworm


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